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You guys. I want to vomit. Are you watching the news? Or the weather? If so you may notice that Oklahoma Shitty is straight floating away. Wonderful. You know what I need on top of an already stressful week? This.

Balls.

I get ready to leave this morning and Danny has on his weatherlust face but I’m all ‘whatever, it’s summer, no bad things happen in summer, except extreme heat and unscheduled splash pad shut downs.’

Then Danny is all, “Oh you may not want to go in. It’s flash flooding.”

This is a dramatic recreation of my situation...with pigs.

Moi: What the fuuuu—heck? <—noticed the baby at the last second, that’s good fucking parenting right there.

So out the door I go into crazy mad standing pools of water. Only it wasn’t just outside the door so I thought it would be ok and that Danny and radar were just…I don’t know, wrong?

At work water is in the windows. The library basement is flooded. I’m yelling “Don’t use the elevator” everytime someone walks in the door and guess what? Every lazy ass person is getting on the elevator!

I’ve assigned myself the bastian of eletrical safety and if someone gets trapped/electrocuted/starves in that elevator I will feel responsible. Stress.

Books are in danger of getting wet. Stressssssss.

I still have to commute home. STREEEESSSSSS.

This is what happens to people under stress. First you fade to blue. Then arrows shoot out of your pressure points.

How do people handle this calmly? Some even seem to be enjoying it.

I’m telling those bastards to get on the elevator.

The only bright spot is that a coworker is stuck at home with someone from the Weather Channel. And we all know how I feel about the possibility of getting on national television in a ‘person on the street’ interview. Sweet.ness.